The Runaway
by GinnyAdames730
Summary: Ginny Weasley knows she is in love with Hermione. It's a fact, one that she hates herself for. But does Hermione feel the same way? After Book 7, Ron/Harry are aurors and Hermione/Ginny still at school. Eventual smut


I doubt anyone would believe me if I said I was gay.

I am Ginny Weasley. Yes, I grew up with six brothers. Yes, I was a tomboy.

But now I'm not. I've dated blokes. I've liked blokes. I've snogged blokes publicly.

For Merlin's sakes, I dated Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The defeater of Voldemort. People have expectations for me. My mother has expectations for me.

I am the only girl. I am expected to breed like a rabbit, and produce more gingers. More Weasley's. These expectations? Not at all appealing. The prospect of being a mother? Even less appealing.

I tried to convince myself for years that I liked Harry. That I liked blokes. But really, I didn't. I don't. I wish I could. But I think it is impossible for me to be attracted to a man.

I realized it when my brother, Harry and Hermione went off to fight the war. I thought I would miss Harry desperately. I didn't. I missed Ron. He's my brother. I love him. During those months they were away, I realized I was in love with Hermione. Completely and irrevocably.

I was horrified. Hermione was my friend. My straight friend. Who was beautiful and intelligent and thoughtful and perfect. I missed her so desperately that it physically hurt.

But she loves my brother. Ron is her boyfriend. And I feel like a complete arse hole. They are happy together. I should leave it be.

But I can't. It's not that I don't want to. I wish I didn't get lightheaded whenever she so much as looked at me. Especially since she considers me her best friend.

It doesn't help that my mother has enlisted us to share the same bed. Let's just say I haven't gotten much sleep this whole summer.

I'm exhausted. Not just physically (sleeping next to Hermione is practically impossible, and even when I do, I have incredibly innapropriate dreams that make me feel like a creep) but emotionally too. I want her to myself. I resent my brother because he is male and possesess a penis and I don't. I want her to love me the way I love her.

My heart hammers in my chest when she hugs me. Goosebumps appear on my arms when we brush against each other, even slightly. I am so goddamn happy when she is around. My jaw aches from grinning. Instantaneous butterfly colonies appear in my stomach when she laughs. And her smell. She smells so fucking good.

I'm in too deep. I'm too attracted, too in love. She's so strong. And caring and thoughtful and wonderful. She is the most selfless woman I have ever met.  
>I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts.<p>

So I'm with Harry. It's denying everything I am. But it's a distraction. It's an excuse. It's so incredibly wrong.

I love Harry. I do. But he's like my brother. And when I kiss him, I feel nothing. Nothing at all. I've kissed girls, of course. And it's been lovely. Amazing. Earth-shaking. I feel things that I have never felt with a guy and it's comforting to know that I really am a lesbian and it's not just a phase.

No one knows. Not a single person. I think Bill suspects, though. We were always close. He knows me better than I know myself.

Laying here, I know that I am gay. I know that I do not love Harry. I can't love Harry. Not like he loves me.

But I just slept with him.

You have to understand I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. And it wasn't horrible. It was mechanical. It was...boring. He's sleeping next to me and I feel nothing.

I am disgusted with myself.

I kiss his cheek softly and roll over slowly, trying not to wake him. The last thing I need is Harry to wake up and ask me to stay the night in his and Ron's room.

It's still early, the moon just rising over the tops of the trees. I slip on my clothes quickly. The orangeness of Ron's room is always blinding, but especially so tonight. The moon is illuminating the walls to an unbearably bright room.

My breath is coming quickly. I gulp air, trying to breathe at a normal pace. I feel clausterphobic. I feel trapped.

So I escape.

I run down the stairs, and burst into my room. Which, unfortunately, I am sharing with Hermione until we both go back to school. Until Ron and Harry start Auror training. Until September. Only two more weeks.

My eyes are burning with unshed tears as I throw myself down onto my bed. Hermione stares. She is curled up at my desk, reading a giant book that dwarfs her petite frame.

I will not cry. Least of all in front of her.

"Are you alright?" she asks, looking concerned.

"Fine," I say, "just tired." I clear my throat roughly. I know she knows I'm lying. I know she will push for an answer.

"Did something happen with you and Harry? Did you have a row?" Hermione questions, closing her book and standing up, then settlings herself down next to me on the bed. Her hair is down today in perfect ringlets. As she comes closer, her smell overwhelms me. A mix of chocolate and rasberries. With a musky coat of pure Hermione mixed in. I breathe deeply. Her scent is a comforting, and needed at this moment.

"I slept with him," I sob, "I slept with him okay! I did! And I just...I don't know what I am going to do." I run hands through my hair, making it stand on end. Hermione looks shell-shocked, and unsure about what to do. She reaches out and starts to rub my back. I sniffle, and then a single teardrop rolls down my cheek. That is all it takes to unleash heaving sobs and broken cries. I curl into her, my head in the crook of her neck and my hands around her waist. I feel safe here, in her arms. And Hermione just lets me cry.

I cry for a long time. When I finally pull back, there is a wet spot on her shirt, where my tears had soaked through.

"Well, were you...safe?" she finally asks awkwardly.

"Yes," I whisper, sighing, "he was nice to me and everything."

"Good," Hermione says quietly. And then she pulls me into another hug. I am having trouble breathing. But not from the whole sobbing thing.

Having Hermione this close is doing things to my brain. And my heart. And my body. I have to resist the urge to be closer.

She holds me longer then is really necessary. I try not to overanalyze this.

"Let's get you some tea yeah?" she murmers in my ear, kissing my cheek as she pulls away.

I, Ginny Weasley, love Hermione Granger. Now I just have to say it outloud.


End file.
